Walking through the rain this evening, I realise that the year is almost done. I am not fuelled on by the Mumbai rush, I do not plan to visit in the coming summer. ( Well, He laughs as I write this). So there isn't the sweet agonising pleasure of shopping for two little girls: like the Kabuliwalah I often end up buying something that is too small. There will be other times.
There is my upcoming birthday to look forward to, I always love this time of year also for this reason. I have always loved the anticipation, the 40s have only been more reason to celebrate. If I can celebrate the gift of a rainy day in November that curls my hair to all its genetic glory, then I must surely celebrate the wonderous gift of 45 glorious years. Although today, I am the oldest in the house, the memories of all the Elders who raised me are with me in someway. And miles are merely a number. I know that one can be in the same room as another person and be far away. Or be thousands of miles away from those I love deeply and feel very connected. Now only if I had one of those time turners, chai together would be wonderful..
One of these days, I want one of those lovely contraptions. I hear they are available only in a certain shop in a certain village invisible to Muggle eyes.
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